Paint By Numbers
by Gomes
Summary: [GC] Catherine and Gil are called to investigate the murder of an upandcoming artist and they soon realize that paint can’t cover up everything.
1. ChapOne

TITLE: Paint by Numbers  
  
AUTHOR: Gomey (grissomsgnome@yahoo.com)  
  
ARCHIVE: Anywhere . . . just let me know, so I can brag. Heheh. J/K  
  
TYPE: GCR (what else?)  
  
RATING: R (some sexual themes)  
  
SPOILERS: *shrugs* Minute reference to Table Stakes (1-14)  
  
DISCLAIMER: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.  
  
SUMMARY: Catherine and Gil are called to investigate the murder of an up-and-coming artist and they soon realize that paint can't cover up everything.  
  
NOTES: Work was extra slow today, and this idea came to me. Maan, I still have about two fics to finish and three other ideas a brewin'. Gah - so little time!  
  
Cheers!  
  
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" . . . very much of the Van Gogh movement." Gil Grissom walked in, hearing the last statement of the owner of the gallery.   
  
He stepped behind CatherineWillows, inhaling her scent; a habit he seemed to have picked up ever since the case against the brother and sister who fed a wealthy woman to piranhas. He smiled, the lingering smell still gently caressing his senses. "What did I miss?" He whispered in her ear.  
  
Catherine straightened up, trying to fight the current that seemed to zap through her body every time her supervisor was near. She glanced over her shoulder, "You're late."  
  
Gil leaned even closer. "You can punish me later." He smiled and began to inspect the surroundings, leaving the interrogation in the capable hands of Catherine. «God, how *I* would love to be in her capable hands. . . » He thought to himself, sensual images slowly making their way into his thoughts. He shook himself free of them, promising to return to such forbidden fantasies when his eyelids became weighted and the make-shift darkness of his sanctuary was undisturbed by outside factors.  
  
Catherine watched as Gil went about with his examination, surprise written all over her face. She tuned out the owner's words, hoping that Jim Brass would fill her in later. She watched his every move: the way he would cock his head to the side, absorbing the information in front of him or the way he normally supported his weight on his right leg whenever met with a challenge he was enthusiastic to solve. Her eyes dropped to the ground, focussing on nothing of importance, but her mind kept building momentum, wondering why he was in such a playful mood as of late. She snapped her eyes to his: more importantly, were their flirtatious sessions getting more and more intense?  
  
" . . . and she was very talented." The owner cleared his throat, looking deliberately at Catherine. "It's such a shame that she was taken from us." He looked towards her section, red dots in abundance danced across the walls, seeming to take their place beside each of her paintings.   
  
Catherine nodded and walked the path lead by the owner's eyes. She read the brief description that lay suspended on the wall, near the entrance of the room. "Cassidy Jung, talented 29 year old girl from Canada. Moved here when she was 20 and worked for the last ten year to get recognized."She read aloud, sensing Gil coming towards her. "All sold." She didn't bother confirming his presence, she could feel his aura mingle with hers.  
  
He smiled secretively at the strong bond the two shared. Since the day they met, some sixteen years ago, he could feel this natural attraction to the strawberry-blond beside him. The attraction may have started out composed of lust and intrigue, but friendship, admiration and love soon burst through the brick walls he had forced around himself. Like a mason, she had slowly began to chip away at the fortress that he had built and he wasn't sure whether to feel anger or pride. "Pain is good for art." He stated simply, his artistic eye developing with each painting his mind took in.  
  
"Death is even better." Catherine remarked dryly. "Shall we go check out the body?"  
  
***  
  
"So, Mr. Harrison, how long have you known the deceased, Cassidy Jung?" Jim asked, fingering his notepad.   
  
"Cassidy and I met at a community art class about two years ago." He stated. "We hit it off really well, both expressing our love for the beauty of Van Gogh."  
  
Jim nodded. "And you own this gallery?" After Bill Harrison's nod, he continued. "When did her show start?"  
  
"Two days ago." His eyes trailed to the sold paintings, pride playing his features. "She would have been so proud - she had worked so hard developing Van Gogh's technique, understanding his colour scheme and putting it to use."  
  
Jim nodded. "When was the last time you saw her?"   
  
"Two days ago, at her opening." Bill looked down. "After that, I figured she would be painting, keeping up with demand."  
  
Jim nodded. "Do you have the coordinates of the buyers?" He took down all the information. "We'll be in touch."  
  
***  
  
Gil followed Catherine to the back room. They nodded to the police man who had secured the location and stepped underneath the yellow tape that separates pride from curiosity. Catherine wrinkled her nose, not sure what was making her feel even more nauseous: stale blood or turpentine. "God, how long has she been here?" Catherine asked, her hands mimicking Gil's gloved hands.   
  
He bent down, looking at the victim up close: her eyes were still open, mouth slightly ajar. Her body lay naked, back facing the ceiling. Colours adorned her naked body, the paint now-crusted over laying limp against the deceased's skin. Gil grimaced, trying to make out bruising and discolouration from the gallons of paint that accosted the victim. "It's hard to say," he started, looking at her from all angles, "there's just so much paint on her."  
  
Catherine was staring at the victim, noting her placement when Gil stood in front of her and bent down, travelling the same road as Catherine's hunch. Catherine was about to protest when her eyes were attracted to his butt and she felt her breathing grow deep. She tried to focus elsewhere, trying to control the ever-arousing sensation that left her tingling and gasping for more. «Focus, Willows!» She berated herself, bending down near Gil. "Gil." Catherine nodded towards a canvas splattered with an array of colours super-imposed over each other creating an extra skin on the canvas. Catherine took her camera out and took pictures of the victim and then took some of the painting. She let the camera hang from her neck and let her fingers glide over the bumpy texture. She took a step back, observing the size of the canvas. "This one is bigger than all of her other work." Catherine noticed, almost backing up into Gil. She stopped, barely feeling his hard chest against her back.   
  
Gil dragged a hand across his face, rubbing his tired eyes. He looked back at the victim and bent down, motioning Catherine to join him. "Take a picture." He pointed to the victim's face. After the flash, he gently opened the deceased's mouth and both CSIs watched as a thick yellow liquid poured out of her mouth. Another flash went off, causing Gil to blink a few times. "Suicide?" Gil asked her. "Couldn't take the pressure of making it big?" He shrugged, other theories crossing his mind.  
  
"The paint in her mouth is liquid, yet on her body is crusted." Catherine looked at Gil for a theory.  
  
Gil shrugged. "Either the paint in her mouth could have been put there recently," he suggested looking around the room for a stash of paint cans and supplies, "or the mere action of closing her mouth could have kept the paint from drying out." He stood up and headed towards the supply area. "Paint hardens when it comes into contact with oxygen and changes in temperature."  
  
"But when you die, your body temperature drops gradually as you near death." Catherine countered. "So, with her loss of body heat, I don't understand why the liquid hasn't solidified."   
  
Gil shrugged and looked around the room. "Maybe somewhere the loss of body temperature was compensated by a, let's just say, artificial heat source?"  
  
Catherine cocked her head to the side, pondering Gil's line of thought.  
  
"We have paint." Gil gave her a lopsided grin. He glanced back at the painting and stared at it. Putting down the paint can he walked over and stood directly in front of the canvas. "Cath, come here."   
  
Catherine walked up beside him.   
  
"The paint here, in the middle," he pointed and then waved his hand to the side, "seems to be heading outwards."  
  
Catherine nodded and then placed her hand beside Gil's. "If you look at the way it splattered, I'd say it was a pretty forceful . . . splurt."  
  
The eyebrow mocked her silently. "Splurt?"  
  
She mimicked the motion of the paint hitting the canvas and then splattering. "Splurt."   
  
"But it's different from her style which is clearly 'Van Gogh-esque'." Gil commented. "And why just this spot . . . was she experimenting with a new style?"   
  
"No, Cassidy looked up to Van Gogh, adopted his style - she wouldn't have betrayed him." The owner forced his way into the investigation.   
  
"Do you know about this painting?" Gil asked, pointing behind him.  
  
The owner shook his head. "No, she just said that it was going to blow me away. Again, you can see the frantic yet controlled brush strokes, each building up the intensity. The red and blue colours complement each other in a curious way; red is wild and passionate, blue is calm yet she mixed them perfectly to create this cool heat." The owner let out an exhilarate breath. His eyes fell on the yellow paint splashed on to the canvas. "Rome wasn't built in a day, but it burned in a couple of hours." He commented ironically. "It only takes a hint of a green stain on someone's soul to destroy another's vision."   
  
"Could," Catherine paused, trying to remember the girl's name, "Cassidy have lost her temper and just let go?" She asked, looking at the emotion, so out of place.  
  
"No, this painting *was* about release but not despair." The owner shook his head. "This was actually a storage room," he motioned the different cupboards and closets, as well as the pile of accumulating junk, "but Cassidy insisted that she be entitled to paint here. She said she felt in her element here." The owner shrugged, running a hand through his long black hair. "She even paid me for using the room, so who was I to complain?"   
  
Gil nodded and strolled around, while Catherine stood looking at the painting. He glanced out the window, noticing a small fire-escape route beside the window. He opened the large window and stepped out, landing securely on the metal cris-crossed bars that composed the emergency route. His footsteps echoed as he walked to the end of the small balcony and then back to the window. The stairs leading to the road beside the art gallery was located about half-way between the end of the balcony and the window. He poked his head into the window. "Do you use this fire-escape?" He asked, leaning on the window sill.  
  
"No, why would I need to?" He asked, slightly nervous.  
  
"Okay." Gil nodded and looked at Catherine, a ghost of a smile dancing in his eyes.   
  
She walked over to him with his kit. "I love it when we get to prove them wrong." She whispered devilishly.   
  
He let out a chuckle, aroused at her dedication, and collected three strands of hair: two blond ones and one black one. He stepped back into the room and walked over to Catherine who was still taking a few more pictures. "I think David can handle the rest." He started to leave, closely followed by Catherine. "That painting," he turned to the owner, "will be taken to our labs. No one is to touch it."   
  
The owner nodded and watched both CSIs leave.  
  
***  
  
Catherine and Gil joined Jim near their Tahoe. "David is collecting the body to bring it to Robbins, Catherine and I are heading back to the lab to work a few theories." He told Jim.  
  
"Okay." He jerked his head in direction of the art gallery. "Says he hadn't see her in two days, when her show opened. I'm checking out some of the buyers."  
  
Catherine nodded and stepped into the car, Gil following suite shortly after. Jim waved them goodbye and they headed to the lab. Gil looked over to Catherine, who was in the driver's seat. "Has anyone wondered how the paintings sold so fast?"  
  
"An artist's demise is like winning the lottery, only you can't collect your prize." Catherine stated, quickly glancing at Gil.  
  
"Remind me to look through the newspaper when we get to the lab." He stated, staring out the window.   
  
—TBC— 


	2. ChapTwo

Paint by Numbers - Part Two  
  
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Gil and Cath arrived at the lab and they both headed to Gil's office. She sat down on his couch, watching him rummage through a folder full of single-sheet newspapers. She walked up to him and peered over his shoulder. "Gil, that's morbid." She made a face.  
  
"What?" He asked casually.  
  
"You keep the obituary sections? . . . it's creepy."  
  
He gave her a sheepish smile. "Harrison said that he saw Cassidy two days ago, right?" His eyes scanned the paper he held.   
  
"Yeah." Catherine said, a little distracted while leafing through some pages dating back to seven years ago. She raised her eyebrow. "Why?"  
  
Gil held up the paper smugly. "Well, it must have been some conversation considering her obituary was printed in the paper dating four days ago."  
  
Catherine grinned at him, snatching the paper from his hands. "Wow, so your macabre hobby came in handy." She teased.  
  
"In the field of observations, my dear, chance favours only the prepared minds." He stated sagely.  
  
Catherine looked at him and they held each other's gaze in a comfortable silence. ". . . shut up." She smiled, jabbing him in the side with her elbow. She exited his office. "Come on, we have a body to inspect."  
  
He let his eyes trail over her retreating form. «*Another* body to inspect.»  
  
***  
  
Gil finished tying the ties of his scrubs behind his back. He looked at the now bare body of Cassidy Jung, turpentine once again filling the air. He noticed some blue discolourations all over her body. "Doc, you couldn't get all the paint off?" He pointed.  
  
Al Robbins moved towards the operating table. "Those are bruises."  
  
Gil's eyes went wide and he bent down, getting a closer look. "But her body is riddled with them." He lifted his head, wondering if Al's analysis was really true.  
  
Al shrugged. "They're fairly recent, I can tell you that, but as to why they are there, I don't know." He put a sheet against the white light. "What I can tell you is what killed her."   
  
"The bruises, the paint in her system?" Catherine offered.  
  
"Spine was snapped." Al offered plainly.  
  
Catherine looked down at the victim and closed her eyes. "God."  
  
"There was some trauma to the head as well," he pointed to the X-Ray of the skull, "but I don't know if that is relevant to her death."  
  
"Were all the bruises at the same time?" Catherine asked.  
  
Al shook his head. "There are quite a few that are of a slightly different shade, so I'm assuming that they were probably separated between a day or so."  
  
"Time of death?"   
  
Al looked at Gil. "I'd say a little more than twenty-four. The yellow paint that was purged out of her system is still fresh, I'd say give or take three hours."  
  
Catherine and Gil shared a look. "Let's set up an interview with good ol' Harrison." Catherine began to take her scrubs off.  
  
"I'll bring my portfolio." Gil remarked lamely.  
  
—TBC— 


	3. ChapThree

Paint by Numbers - Part Three  
  
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Gil and Catherine sat down opposite Bill Harrison. "You have a right to council, Mr. Harrison." Gil offered politely.  
  
Bill shook his head. "I don't need one."   
  
"So, you saw Cassidy Jung two days ago, at the opening of her show." Jim asked.   
  
Bill nodded. "I thought we went through this. I hadn't seen her since. She has the key to the gallery since she painted at all hours of the night."  
  
Gil's lower lip inched into a pout. He tossed the photocopy of the newspaper in Bill's direction. "So, can you explain to me how it's possible to converse with a body that would have been dead for two days prior to your supposed meeting?" He asked innocently.  
  
"Or did you have a side job as a necromancer?" Catherine added, sarcastically.  
  
Bill brushed a hand through his long hair. "Oh God." He looked up. "See, it was her first show and we made this plan. . ." He paused, looking around nervously. "We would write a fake obituary and state that she is a budding artist." He looked down at the paper. "You don't understand how this would sky-rocket sales. You saw it - every single on of her paintings sold!"   
  
"So what would happen after the show?" Jim asked.  
  
"Once in awhile, you claim that you found an unreleased painting." Gil filled in, eyes never breaking from Bill's direction.  
  
"Which goes for even more." Bill shrugged. "You'd be surprised how many artists are running the same scheme."   
  
"It's a form of fraud." Catherine added.  
  
"It payed the bills." Bill retorted. "Look, can I go? I have some paintings to deliver."  
  
Catherine and Gil looked at Jim, who gave them a half-nod. "Thank you for your time." Gil said as Bill left the vicinity. He turned towards Catherine. "What do you think?"  
  
"It fits too conveniently, it's almost sickening." She stated dryly.  
  
He pursed his lips, deep in concentration. "I think the painting is telling us more than we understand."  
  
"But the owner explained the meaning behind Cassidy's painting."  
  
"A painting may be worth a thousand words, Catherine, but they may not be the right thousand words." Gil threw her a smug smile.   
  
Catherine rolled her eyes. "Alright, let's go check out the canvas." As they were leaving, Catherine turned to Gil, "hey did you ever get the results from the three hair strands you found?"  
  
"Yeah," he held the door open for her, "the two blond ones were Cassidy's and the black strand was Harrison's."  
  
"So he lied." Catherine shook her head, anger creeping up.  
  
"Yeah, and Cassidy's still had the follicle attached."  
  
"They were ripped out? What about Harrison's?" She noted Gil shaking his head. "That son of a -" She interrupted herself. "What game is he playing?"  
  
"Well, I had Brass check out where the money from her art collection is going to and take a wild guess as to where." They walked into an empty room, the canvas placed against the wall at the other end.  
  
"The Bill Harrison Foundation?" She offered sarcastically.  
  
"The very same." They both stood in front of the canvas. Gil took a step closer and took out a mini- magnifying glass from his breast pocket. "Look at this."   
  
Catherine leaned in, intrigue helping her temporarily ignore their close proximity. "That looks like a material imprint." She turned her head at the same time Gil did, and both investigators stood still, feeling their breath travel to the other. Their mouths were inches apart, and she dropped her eyes to his lower lip, wanting to feel it bruise between her teeth.  
  
"Hey." They both stepped apart, Catherine turning around to greet the Texan accent that had disturbed them while Gil turned back to the canvas and pretended to analyse it.  
  
"Nicky, how's it going?" Catherine smiled at him, successfully covering up the heat that now nested in her core.   
  
"I just met Doc Robbins on my way, and he wanted me to give this to you guys." Nick Stokes handed Catherine a folder. "Hey Grissom." He tried to get the supervisor's attention.  
  
"Nick." Gil acknowledged him without turning around.   
  
Nick's brow furrowed, seemingly accepting another of his supervisor's odd moods. "Anyway, I have to head to trace for the DB I'm working on." He waved 'bye' to Catherine and waited for Gil to show a reaction as well. Silence hung in the air.  
  
Gil rolled his eyes, a hint of a grin playing across his features. "Bye Nick."   
  
Catherine laughed as Nick left. "They look up to you and you ignore them." She playfully slapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"Tough love." He dead panned.  
  
"So, what did you find?" She asked, taking a closer look at the material-based imprints.  
  
"Look at the back of the canvas, it has extra wooden panels."  
  
"Reinforced?" Catherine asked quizzically.   
  
Gil nodded. "The ones more in the middle are slightly cracked, suggesting that quite a lot of pressure was administered."  
  
Catherine pondered his statement and finally met his expecting eyes. "Could she have been thrown?"  
  
"The suspect loses his temper, hurls her towards the canvas."  
  
"She falls, cracks her spine." Catherine let her hand glide through her hair. "But why fill her body with paint?"  
  
Gil put his index finger up, correcting her. "Correction, why come *back* and fill her body with paint."  
  
"Right, the paint is fresh." They both sighed in unison.   
  
Gil walked up to the canvas and stretched to observe the higher portions of the painting. "It's odd, I see the same imprints up here."  
  
"So the attacker threw her multiple times." Catherine shook her head.  
  
"But there are no signs of struggle." Gil stood back, perplexed. "Was she a willing candidate? Was this a new medium she was exploring? Who was helping her?" He asked, questions flooding his mind.  
  
"Beats the hell out of me." Catherine exhaled. "But it would explain all the bruises."  
  
"Go for it." Gil provoked her theory.  
  
"Cassidy and Bill conspire to fake her death, thus aiding in helping her sales." Catherine paced around the room.  
  
"And?"  
  
"Body painting?" Catherine raised both her eyebrows. "It was for the art, so she throws herself against the canvas, and then works with the imprints that are there."  
  
Gil nodded. "Bill comes in, isn't happy with her turning her back on Van Gogh."  
  
"She says she needs something fresh, he says not to betray the masters."   
  
"She tries to explain her new method, saying that she will still keep the Van Gogh technique but throw in a little modern style to it." Gil nodded.  
  
"He freaks out, throws her against the canvas, a little too hard." Catherine stopped in front of Gil. "Neck snaps." She snapped her fingers. "He freaks out and leaves."   
  
"He comes back sometime later, and try to make it look like a suicide maybe?"  
  
"Right, she couldn't take the pressure, so she drinks the paint." Catherine paused. "Idiot, he didn't even leave the paint can close by."  
  
Gil sighed. "The difference between intelligence and stupidity is that intelligence has a limit."   
  
"Let's get some tarp and some paint." Catherine suggested, off Gil's quizzical look. "Working our theory. . ." she said slowly, as if trying to explain the science to a five year old.  
  
Gil gave her a half-smile, the corner of his eye crinkling ever-so slightly. "Only if I get the honours of throwing you against the canvas." Mischief crossed his boyish good-looks causing Catherine to beam at him.   
  
She wagged her finger at him. "Don't forget, I still get to punish you later." They both headed separate ways, getting ready for their little experiment.  
  
—TBC— 


	4. ChapFour

Paint by Numbers - Part Four  
  
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Gil was already back in the room as Catherine entered. She adopted a darling smile and he couldn't help but admire how cute she looked in the baggy white overalls. She hadn't put her arms in the sleeves yet, so the torso of the overalls hung at her waist. She just seemed to be dwarfed by the clothing and Gil found it hard not to rush her and crush her in an embrace.  
  
"Nice suit." She commented on the equally baggy overalls that he adorned.  
  
He bent down, pouring yellow paint into various mixing trays that already housed reds and blues. "Instead of enjoying the view, maybe you could help me mix some paint." He grinned.   
  
Catherine rolled her eyes and looked around the room. There were several canvases leaning against the wall. Her eyes fell to the double mattress lying on the floor, pushed up against the wall where a clean canvas hung. "Are you going to have your wicked way with me, Mr. Grissom?" She asked seductively.  
  
Gil's head snapped up and his eyes met hers. He could feel the blush redden the tips of his ears and he immediately looked down, concentrating on the paint. It wasn't exactly what Catherine had said that embarrassed him but more so her ability to almost read his mind; he had been thinking along the same lines when he had brought the mattress in. Gil wet his drying lips. "It's so you don't get hurt." He stated.  
  
"Oh, I never thought you liked it rough." Catherine tried to conceal the evil grin that crept on her face, loving the embarrassed reaction she was getting out of Gil.   
  
"Catherine." It was meant as a warning, but he couldn't prevent the playful undertone. He got up and retrieved a padded jacket. "Here."   
  
She put her arms through the sleeve of the jacket and inhaled sharply as she felt his hands against her back. She felt his hand glide up in harmony with the zipper and held her breath as his fingers lingered at the base of her neck.   
  
Gil couldn't pry his fingers away from her exposed skin, the softness of her hair tickling them.  
  
"Hey guys!" Sara Sidle walked in, another moment interrupted.   
  
"I didn't know this was a public viewing." Catherine muttered under her breath. She bent down and toyed with the different colours, stirring and mixing.  
  
Gil looked at the younger CSI. "Sara."  
  
"Yeah, I just wanted to know if you have any cases - Warrick and I just finished the DB found in the residential area. Turned out to be a domestic dispute gone bad, husband confessed."  
  
Gil shrugged and looked at Catherine. "Paper work?" He offered to Sara. Noticing her look of disgust, he continued, "until we get another call. Then you and Warrick will be on that."  
  
Sara glanced beside Gil, noticing the paints, the canvas and the mattress. She looked at him wide-eyed. "Grissom, what are you guys doing?"  
  
"Oh, Gil and I decided to take up body painting. We're into the kinky stuff." She wiggled her eyebrows.  
  
"Cath." Gil's warning came out more of a surprised exclamation. He turned to Sara and gave her an embarrassed smile, and for some reason, neither confirmed nor denied Catherine's words.  
  
"Bye Sara." Catherine called over her shoulder as she started to put the overalls over the padded suit.  
  
Sara looked at Gil and he smiled a 'goodbye' and turned his attention to Catherine. Sara left the room, slamming the door behind her. Gil looked at Catherine expectantly.  
  
"Tough love." She imitated his earlier tone of voice.  
  
Gil chuckled and held up the folder that Nick had dropped off earlier. "Robbins says that the bruises are more consistent on her right shoulder and back." He said as Catherine took off her shoes.   
  
She stood on the mattress and squatted slightly, stretching out her muscles. "So I just . . . throw myself at the mattress?" She looked at him skeptically. "Are you sure this isn't one of your lame-ass jokes?"   
  
Gil smiled secretly. "First, your going to throw yourself at the canvas, yes. This is willing, so you know how much your body can take. Then we'll use the dummy over there," he paused, examining her amused look, "not this dummy," he pointed to himself, "the other dummy", he pointed behind him, "and I get the honours of throwing it against the wall."  
  
"Ecklie." She read the name tag and glanced at Gil.  
  
Gil shrugged, changing subjects. "I have Greg and a few others down at trace trying to separate the different impact points." He walked beside the mattress, near the canvas. "We'll compare notes after."  
  
Catherine nodded, steadied herself on the mattress and lunged towards the canvas. Her shoulder came in contact with it, and she bounced off it, landing on the mattress. "Like that?" She looked up at Gil who was smiling.  
  
"Like that." He produced a brush from behind his back. "But let's add the paint, shall we?"   
  
She looked at the still blank canvas. "Yeah." She said, slightly out of breath. She stood there as Gil began to paint her, mixing in reds, blues, yellows and greens. The feeling of the brush gliding over her arms, legs, hips and back were having some rather arousing effects and she fought hard to keep her libido in check.   
  
"Here." Gil handed her the paint brush and motioned for her to do her chest and tummy.  
  
She tried to hide her embarrassed smile as she concentrated on putting even coats of paint on her front. She jumped a little when she felt the brush against the back of her thighs, moving north. She bit her lip as she felt the brush glide over her buttocks, realizing that she was so turned on that if Gil even thought about touching her, she was sure she'd explode on the spot.   
  
"All done." He dropped the paintbrush in the pan and stepped back, admiring his art. He took the paint brush from her hand and invited her. "Your canvas awaits." Gil watched as she stepped on to the mattress, a dazed look in her eyes. When her back was to him, he let out a long breath, forgetting to breathe as he was lavishing her body with paint.  
  
Catherine took a deep breath and charged the canvas, knocking it with her right shoulder. She stood up and charged again, each time hitting it with a different area of her body, and different colours slowly made their way, mixing and imposing on top of each other.   
  
When the canvas began to get full, Gil took a fresh one. He stopped her before she lunged again. "Let's freshen you up." He took her hand and brought her to the center of the room. He bent down and watched as she tried to catch her breath. He handed her a bottle of water as he began to mix some more paint. "You okay?"   
  
Catherine smiled, touched by the concern in his voice. "Yeah, thanks." She said, a little distantly. She could feel her body craving his touch, waiting for her to be painted by his hand. She let out a small gasp as she felt his hand on the small of her back.  
  
"Catherine?"   
  
She continued to look straight ahead, trying to keep her mind from his presence, until she felt something poke the tip of her nose. She focussed and saw the retreating form of Gil's finger. "Gil!" She brushed the back of her hand on her nose and noticed a blue residue. "You put paint on my face?" She asked with playful shock.   
  
Gil's childish grin disappeared as an uneasiness took over. "Now Catherine, we do have an experiment to conduct." He put his hands up in defence, backing away from her approaching form. He sighed in relief as she stopped, and his eyes then danced to her nose and unable to contain his emotions, he burst out laughing.   
  
Catherine's jaw dropped. "It's not funny, Gil." She lunged at him, a handful of paint landing on his chest due to her miscalculations. "Damnit." She began to run back to the cans of paint that lay in the middle of the room when she felt him tackle her down to the ground. "Get off!" She giggled, kicking playfully.   
  
They wrestled each other to the paint cans, laughing and struggling with the other. Gil made it on top, pinning her down on her tummy, underneath his weight. Both were breathing heavily now, and Gil discreetly dipped his fingers into a can of red paint and waited for her to make the next move.  
  
Catherine struggled a bit, however liking the feeling of his weight pressed into her back, she squirmed and managed to turn onto her back, facing him. They both locked eyes, and desire began to creep it's way past their eyes and into their hearts.   
  
Gil bent down slowly, never taking his eyes off hers until his lips were but a breath away. He was now straddling her, and he felt her move against him, her hips moving to a rhythm that his body wanted to adopt as well. Just as he was about to capture her lips with his, he felt some wet substance hit his cheek. He opened his eyes in shock, looking at Catherine's hand now incased in green. "You didn't." He breathed.   
  
Catherine laughed maniacally. "Check mate." The smile began to disappear and turn into the acceptance of a paint fight. They both struggled against each other, dipping their hands in the paint cans and both standing tall, challenging the other to make a move. "You know, this means war." Catherine grinned. She made a few taunting lunges, but Gil remained in his spot, observing her. "You know, classically, the man makes the first move." She said, trying to get him to crack.  
  
"Times have changed, and maybe some men prefer the woman to make the first move." He answered, his eyes diving deep beneath hers. Somewhere down the line, their banter changed from a paint fight to something more, and neither knew what to make of the situation.  
  
"Just do it, Gil!" Catherine yelled, feeling the paint drip from her fingertips. "Just be aggressive." She tried to coax him, having a plan unfold in her head: he would charge, she would move out of the way at the last second, and then douse him in paint. She chuckled at her plan, and the next thing she knew, she was thrown on to the mattress with a panting Gil on top of her. She lay there stunned, loving the feel of his body against hers. A breathy moan escaped her mouth but it was lost in his as he bent down to capture her lips. His tongue explored her awaiting mouth, as his hands crept down to her breasts. He massaged her, causing her to arch her back, pressing herself further into him. She let her hands travel down from his lower back to his sexy ass, cupping each cheek.   
  
"God Cath," he breathed in her ear, as he thrust himself against her, overalls rubbing against overalls.  
  
She could feel his erection pressing into her inner thigh and her body ached to be joined to his. She sought out his mouth, her lips clamping over his bottom one and drawing it in, sucking on it, showing him her prowess. She smiled, realizing how much it turned her on to hear him breathe so loudly, to hear him groan whenever she brushed her hand against his arousal. She brought her lips to his neck, biting down ever slightly, then sucking the wound.   
  
A knock on the door caused them to scramble to a standing position. Gil stood facing the door while Catherine bent down and began mixing some more paint, her lust-heavy expression hidden from the others.  
  
"Come in." Gil said, trying to keep his voice steady. He bent down, one knee on the floor and pretended to observe the canvas that Catherine's body had created. «God . . . her body.» He thought, feeling his pants grow tighter under the overalls. He was glad that they were so baggy and prayed that his growing arousal wasn't blatant to who ever was standing at the door.   
  
"Grissom," Sara stepped in, eyeing the mess of different coloured paints scattered around the floor, canvases and mattress, "Doc Robbins wanted me to give this to you." She handed him a folder. "He said that the trauma to the head was actually related to the death, as further inspection revealed that she fell on her head, and the weight of her body crushed the spine at the base of the neck."   
  
Gil nodded. "Thanks Sara." He stood up, facing away from her and Sara's eyes immediately fell to his backside, noting a distinct impression of two hands on his lower back, trailing down to the top of the back of his thighs.  
  
Catherine stood up and walked over to Gil. Sara's eyes grew even wider noticing the hand prints on her chest. As Gil turned to show Catherine the folder, Sara's eyes fell to his crotch, were paint seemed to be smudged, though concentrated in that area. Her eyes flicked to both their faces, noticing paint in their hair and on their skin. A small, indistinct squeak came out of her mouth as she turned-tail and exited the room, the door closing in her wake.   
  
Both senior CSIs waited, and turn to each other simultaneously, Gil dropping the file and pushing Catherine against the canvas. His lips sought hers once more and his hands, now rough with drying paint, caressed her cheek and neck. He angled his face, diving in her mouth, trying to taste as much as he possible could. He pressed in to her, her hands travelling to his waist. He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers as they fought to catch their breath. "We should talk about this."  
  
Catherine nodded, her face still captured by Gil's strong hands. She was about to open her mouth when Greg burst in. All three froze.  
  
"Uh. . ." Greg stuttered, not sure what to make of the situation of Catherine being pinned against a canvas by their supervisor. "I . . . uh . . ." He opened and closed his mouth several times, still not able to form a coherent sentence.  
  
Gil pulled away from Catherine and snatched the folder from Greg's hands. "Thank you Greg." He said, trying to keep a professional attitude.  
  
"Uh . . ." Greg looked from Gil to Catherine and repeated the motion several times before grinning like an idiot.   
  
"Greg." Gil drew out his name as a warning, not bothering to look up from the file he was reading.  
  
Catherine stepped up and glanced over Gil's shoulder. "Not a word, Greggy." She too threw in her warning.  
  
"But c'mon!" Greg finally found his voice. "Do you know the amount of praise I would get for having this information?" He became excited. "I'd be king!"  
  
"You'll be dead if this gets out." Gil knew it was an empty threat and a small smile betrayed the severity of it.  
  
Greg pouted. "Yeah, but we have the best CSIs in the business - they'd find out it was you." He began to leave.  
  
"Not a word, Greg." Gil threw at him. As soon as Greg left, both Gil and Catherine looked at each other. This time, Catherine pushed Gil against the door that Greg had just made his exit by. He stopped, hearing a loud 'thud', rolled his eyes and headed towards the break room, hoping he could catch someone to taunt them with his discovery. «They said not to tell, but they didn't say anything about someone *guessing*. . . » He ran down the hall. "This is gold!" He yelled, causing some of the other lab technicians to cast him an odd look.  
  
—TBC— 


	5. ChapFive

Paint by Numbers - Part Five  
  
--------------  
  
Gil's arms lay loosely around Catherine's waist as their mouths battled each other. Catherine snaked her tongue into his mouth, stroking it with hers as her hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. She inhaled sharply through her nose, trying to ration the oxygen coming in. She gently pushed back against his chest, separating them for some much needed air. "We can't keep doing this." She panted.  
  
"Mmm." Gil muttered incoherently, trailing kisses down her neck, to her collar-bone. He unzipped the overalls slightly and was reaching to unzip the padded jacket from the back when Catherine stopped him.  
  
"Seriously Gil, we can't just keep throwing ourselves into each other's arms, thinking that'll work out on it's own." She took a step back, her eyes noticing Gil's crotch for the first time. "That's why Sara was speechless, for once." She muttered the last part under her breath.   
  
Gil tore his eyes away and looked down. "Oh God." He leaned his head back against the door. "Well, you're not better off either." He walked towards her, his eyes stealing a glance at her breasts.  
  
She looked down, noting the blatant imprints of his hands on her chest. She sighed when she felt him place his hands back, matching up with the prints. "Gil. . ." She moaned as he sensually rubbed her. "We have to finish with the experiment." She pressed her chest out, further into his hands. Her eyes met his, heavily glazed over with lust and love.   
  
"Okay," he pouted playfully, nipping at her lips. "Greg was able to separate the cover-up paint that was thrown on the canvas." He unwillingly dropped his hold on her and moved to the Cassidy's canvas. He held up a picture of the canvas without the covering coat of paint. "The paint was a different consistency, primer actually. So it was easy for them to separate and then with computer graphics, relying on smudge and on the chemical break-up of the canvas, they were able to decree where the paint actually seeped in to the material of the canvas." He held up the finishing picture.   
  
"Are those her leg prints?" Catherine asked, squinting.  
  
Gil nodded, her scent and close proximity driving him mad. He felt as if his pants were going to explode.  
  
"So she was upside down?" Catherine walked towards the newer canvas, her eyes resting on the smudge that she and Gil had left. "Gil, paint me." She purred.   
  
Gil walked up, his eyes roaming her body. He tried desperately to control his carnal desires, and fought from pouncing her. He picked up the paint can and placed it beside her, and dipping both hands in, he began to rub her back, giving her a small massage in the meantime. He worked past her firm buttocks, down her shapely legs and calves. He loved hearing her moans as his hands caressed her. He stepped back, watching her prepare as he took a piece of cloth and wiped his hands.  
  
Looking down on the floor, and placing her hands right near the edge of the canvas, she hoisted herself up on her hand. She let herself lean against the canvas, finally looking up to see that Gil was there to support her. She leaned in as much as she could, and she gasped as she felt Gil press his hands against her abdomen, and legs, trying to get a better imprint. He gave her a sexy smile and stepped back.   
  
Catherine brought her feet back on the ground, and straightened up, feeling Gil's hand gently support her lower back.   
  
They both admired the print of Catherine's upside down body on the canvas, but each had a completely different reason. Catherine was proud that she could still successfully do a handstand without looking like a complete basket-case and Gil was completely turned on by her flexibility.   
  
"So he threw her against the wall and she landed on her head, thus cracking the spine." Catherine said, cleaning her hands with some turpentine and old rag.  
  
"Now we have to find just who this 'who' is." He smiled. "I'm sure we can catch something at the art gallery."  
  
Catherine nodded. "Doesn't the art gallery have a security camera?"   
  
Gil smiled, impressed. He tapped a finger to his temple. "We know who the brains of this relationship is."  
  
Catherine raised her eyebrow, keeping a cool demeanor on the outside. However, her inner child squealed with delight at the mention of relationship. "Please Gil, you're just the eye-candy."   
  
He laughed, helping her out of her overalls and he took off his as well. He took a wet cloth and dabbed the tip of her nose, taking the paint off. "Good as new." He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled affectionately at her.  
  
Catherine blushed and took the cloth from his hand, wiping the side of his cheek, trying to get rid of the paint that she had put there. They stared into each other's eyes, the only movement that of Catherine's hand rubbing against Gil's cheek. She smiled, loving the way his eyes would sparkle whenever she saw her reflection in them, knowing that they glimmered for her, and she knew that her eyes were twinkling as well - his image fuelling the sparks.  
  
He handed her a cap, and nodded to her paint encrusted hair. She smiled and pulled her hair into a ponytail, fastening the cap on. He took one himself and they both head out to the art gallery.  
  
—TBC— 


	6. ChapSix

Paint by Numbers - Part Six  
  
-------------  
  
Gil and Catherine sat side-by-side in the AV room. Gil leaned forward and popped the surveillance tape from the night Cassidy Jung met her demise. He leaned back in his chair, draping his arm across the back of Catherine's chair, his fingers dancing through the soft curls of her hair. Every once in a while, his hand would brush against the bare skin of her neck, and he loved seeing her jump and then cast him this annoyed look. "You're beautiful when you're pissed." He whispered in her ear.  
  
She placed her hand on his knee, wanting more than just the thigh-against-thigh contact that they presently shared. She hit the play button and both watched the screen in fast-forwards. "Okay, there's Cassidy coming in," she paused the tape, "at 7:30pm that night, just as Bill was leaving." She hit fast-forward, and it played through until the tape ended with a blackened picture. "So I guess it wasn't Bill." Catherine looked at Gil. "Maybe it *was* an accident, maybe she wanted to make it look like a murder."  
  
Gil chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Rewind it back to when Cassidy came in and Bill was leaving." Catherine did as she was told. "Now slow it down." They watched as Bill left the building, glanced over his shoulder and picked up speed as he exited. "Did you see that?" Gil placed his fingers on top of Catherine's and paused the tape. "He turned left instead of right."   
  
Catherine's eyes lit up. "The parking lot is right." She looked back at the tape.   
  
Greg walked into the AV room. "Good day." He couldn't contain the smile. "So, Grissom, I got the uh, file you wanted."   
  
"What file?" Catherine asked, intrigued.  
  
"Harrison's file. See if he's had any run-ins with the law." Gil answered, then awaited Greg's response.  
  
"Okay, so what are the most contested types of tickets? Airline tickets, train tickets, concert tickets, speeding tickets or parking tickets?"  
  
Gil just had to look at Greg and the Lab tech handed him another tape. "I did the honours of pulling up the tape where the minor infraction of the law was caught." He beamed.  
  
"Good work, Greg." Catherine said sincerely.  
  
"Thank you Mrs. Grissom." He stated, then dashed out of the room.  
  
Catherine pinched her lips together, trying to contain her laughter. "He's harmless." She tried to console her shocked supervisor. "Let's watch the tape." They popped in the tape and watched as, at around 7:50pm, Bill's car pulled up on the other side of the street and parked. The tape clearly showed him getting out of the car and heading off-screen, towards the left.   
  
"What street is that on?"   
  
"Thorncrest." Catherine read the parking ticket information. "Cross-street is 5th avenue." She looked at Gil, a smile playing. "That's the exact corner that his art gallery in on. My bet is that he went up thanks to the fire-escape he had 'never used'."  
  
"Let's call Jim, have him pick Mr. Harrison up." Gil held out his hand and Catherine gladly took it.  
  
***  
  
Gil looked up just as Catherine entered his office. She closed the door behind her and sauntered up to his desk. "So Harrison admitted." She sat on the edge of his desk.  
  
Gil leaned back in his chair, and peered at her over the top of his glasses. "And did he give a reason?"  
  
"Yeah, he was scared that she was losing her 'Van Gogh' spirit." She shook her head. "So he had spied on her the past few days, and then finally confronted her. He lost his temper and flung her against the wall." She rolled her eyes, tired of the same old explanation, "he just wanted to scare her, not kill her."  
  
Gil frowned. "So why did he fill her mouth with paint?"   
  
"He figured the weirder it is, the more we'd be inclined to look for some crack-pot walking the streets."  
  
"We did find the crack-pot, except he owned an art gallery." Gil commented dryly.  
  
"Well, I for one have gotten a new appreciation for art." Catherine grinned, sliding onto his lap. His arms went around her but she still felt him tense up. "Gil?" She asked, leaning back from him.  
  
He looked at her with confusion in abundance. "I just want to make sure this isn't going to be just about our carnal desires, Catherine." He lovingly stroked her cheek. "Sex isn't the answer."  
  
Catherine grinned. "Of course sex isn't the answer, silly! Sex is the question." She paused, bringing her lips close to his ear. "'Yes' is the answer." She nibbled on his earlobe, getting off one the aroused growl that came from the back of his throat.  
  
"Catherine, I'm serious." He said, with a vulnerability that caused her to stop short.   
  
"God, it's not going to be about the sex, Gil." She closed her eyes, trying to convey her feelings. "It's about everything, it's about us. It's on such a deeper level; knowing what the other is thinking, feeling what the other is feeling." She paused. "Haven't you noticed that?"  
  
He smiled, nodding. His hand disappeared into her hair. "Every time I'm with you, I feel like we're just always connected."  
  
"We have the perfect relationship for this, Gil. It's our friendship, our bond just taken to another level." She let her hand travel downwards until her stroked his length through his pants. "Just with a few perks." She grinned. "I love you beyond words, Gil."  
  
He smiled, "love you back." He gently kissed her lips, wanting her to know that he was attracted to her mind, body and soul. The kiss was slow and sensuous, though they both noted by their laboured breathing, that it had the desired effects. "Let's say we leave a little early, huh?" Gil offered. "I'm sure we can sneak it past the boss."  
  
Catherine laughed and allowed Gil to guide her outside the office. Outside, they were stopped by the whole team. The two senior CSIs both with perplexed looks, observed the other members who were standing their, grinning like morons. "Well," Catherine offered slowly, "Gil and I are heading off." She pulled him by the hand and they made their way towards the exit.   
  
"Bye Mr. & Mrs. Grissom." Nick laughed.  
  
Gil rushed to Greg. "You told." He narrowed his eyes at the now terrified lab-tech.   
  
"I . . . uh . . . Sara told!" He stood behind Warrick, who just smiled and shook his head. "You never told her not to tell."   
  
Catherine grinned and grabbed Gil by the arm. "C'mon, remember Gil, there is no perfect crime. These guys will be on to you before you even dispose of Greg's body." Catherine mumbled, off Greg's horrified look. She yanked Gil towards the exit.  
  
"Hey, no dirty sex here - there's younguns running around.." Nick called after him, ruffling up Greg's hair.  
  
"Please! Sex is only dirty if it's done right." Catherine yelled, not bothering to look back. Gil on the other hand looked back at the team with lust-filled shock written all over his face.  
  
"Man, he doesn't know what he's in for." Warrick commented and left the other members staring after the two.  
  
—Finis— 


End file.
